


The Toymaker

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Play, Animal Distress in Ch 4, Daddy Kink, Darkfic, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fridge Horror, Kylo Makes Toys, Molestation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Poor Rey (Star Wars), Pseudo-Incest, Spooky, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: When Father had company over, Rey couldn't help but take a look...
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	1. A Foiled Escape x Are you alright?

**Author's Note:**

> (mmmm I got the idea from a few lines of an old detective story aaaaaggghhh ;H;'' )

He had tall, pale candles lit for her, and a white tablecloth laid out. A red wine bottle popped to bubbly laughter. There were three courses, the first being roasted artichoke with a white sauce, which they picked clean between their teeth. The second, lamb chops with tarragon and a cauliflower mash, and the third was a creamy white coconut gelee still waiting in the fridge. 

“So, um,” she said, breaking the silence, “where’s your factory?” 

He gave a small sound, just a hint of a laugh. The flame on the candle beside him wavered. “I don’t own a factory,” he said.

“Leia said you make _toys_.” 

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t mean you actually _make_ them,” she blurted out, disbelieving. “I mean, with your _bare hands_?”

She could hear the smile on his lips. “Yes,” he said, “though, not often. Most of the time I work for the First Order.”

“But... how...” 

Father leaned back in his seat, and set his large hands on the waist of his pants. From where Rey sat, she could see only the back of his head, his dark and combed hair curling over his shoulders. Rey couldn’t see the new girl, but she did get a glimpse of her as they entered the house: glossy brown hair, a buxom figure, and a wide smile. Rey wasn’t supposed to play spy-games anymore, but she couldn’t help it — these girls stole her evenings away from Father.

After a sip from his glass, he summarized himself. Rey mouthed along to his script. _I invent toys. I patent them. Other people manufacture them. I collect royalties_.

“Oh,” they always said. _Oh_. Sometimes Rey wondered, what it would be like to sit opposite in that chair. Rey pressed her cheek to the wall. Father said that ‘royalties’ meant ‘ _a sum of money’_ , and in this context had nothing at all to do with princes or princesses. 

“‘Oh’,” he repeated, as in, ‘Oh, that’s interesting,’ or ‘Oh...’

“Sorry, I... When Leia mentioned it, I thought you were _lower_ on the supply chain. Like you owned a factory in China or something.”

“That’s flattering,” he said. “Most people assume it’s a hobby.” _Children’s minds need to be fed_.

Something touched her back; Rey jumped in her seat, and turned around — to see a small, perfectly round face in the dark. Two beady eyes gazed solemnly up at her. Sweat broke out on Rey’s brow — _How did you get out?_ she wondered. She had placed Baby in the crib because that had worked countless times before. Baby had short little flippers and a fat body, good for cuddling but not so much for anything else. Baby stared curiously up at her and gave a small _chirp_. 

Father raised his head a fraction. 

Rey clapped her hand over Baby’s mouth and scooped up the Porg in her arms. She bolted up the staircase, heart in her throat. A chair scraped on the carpet downstairs, and words exchanged that were softer than the ringing in her ears. 

She turned sharply to her room and tucked Baby into the cradle — all of the blankets had been shoved into one end, to enable the daring escape. Rey placed a finger to her lips, before scrabbling onto her own canopied bed. Long limbs paddled beneath the blankets and found her big teddy. She pulled him to her body and buried her face in his fur. With steady breaths she willed her heart to slow, as footsteps sounded outside.

The door clicked as it swung open. Rey breathed evenly through her nose, limbs straining with the effort of keeping still. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight, until he stopped at the foot of her bed. The bedsheets lifted. He grasped her ankle in one hand, and pressed the palm of the other against the sole of her foot. Father’s hand was as hot as a furnace against her cold skin.

“Oh, _Rey_ ,” he sighed.

Rey squeezed the teddy tighter. Reluctantly, she tugged her leg from his hands, and sat upright in bed. Father gripped the bedposts; the light from the hallway silhouetted his broad shoulders, his thick arms. A shiver curled down her lower back.

“I told you to stay upstairs,” he said.

Rey bat her eyelashes. “I-I was, but then I saw that Baby wasn’t in her crib...”

“You forgot to put her away again?” His head tilted. “That’s _careless_ of you, Rey. You don’t understand how _dangerous_ it is for her to roam around unsupervised.”

“N-no, she escaped!” Rey always told Father about how smart Baby was, and now she had proof. Rey told him about how she had found the blankets and pillows bunched to the end of the crib. 

Father listened, and after a moment of thoughtful silence, he observed, “Perhaps, she is more than she appears to be.” He turned to the crib. Those two beady eyes reflected back the light from the hallway, before burrowing beneath the nest of blankets. “Perhaps,” he ventured, “she is too much of a responsibility for you.”

His curt tone conveyed to her a world of horror. “No!” Rey cried, pushing the teddy from her arms. “I can take care of her!” 

“Are you a good Mommy?” he asked.

“ _I’m a good Mommy_!” Father had made a list of conditions necessary to keep Baby, to be a good Mommy. “I feed her the fish paste, and I give her her bubble baths, and I clean up her poops, and...” As she recited her responsibilities, her fingers curled and kneaded the bedsheets before her. 

Father stood as still as a statue, until Rey stumbled, her throat dry. Did she mention she’d clean up Baby’s poops already? Despite herself, her eyes watered. Father had taken away 9E, and... A sob lodged in her throat. She blinked her eyes rapidly, fingers gripping the bedsheets.

Father sighed through his nose, before he pushed himself away from the bedposts. He stalked around the perimeter of the bed. “There there,” he murmured. Father sat at the bedside, and brought his hand to her damp cheek. 

Rey’s hands clutched at his thick wrist, as his thumb traced teardrops across her face. A hiccup wracked her body. She could hear a small snort of his amusement.

“... This is all for you, you know.”

Her brow raised. 

“After your sister _left_ ,” he said, cupping her chin, “you were so very _sad_.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “I didn’t think you would be so _lonely_ , little one.”

Rey blinked quickly. These women and girls... Rey had thought that _Father_ was the lonely one. She had thought Father was _bored_ of her.

“Don’t you _want_ another sister?” he asked softly. “Someone to talk to?”

She took his hand in hers. Father’s hand was large and warm, whereas hers was thin and always cold and fidgety. The pads of his fingers were rough from his work. She folded his hand into a fist and pressed her lips to his knuckles.

“... _Rey_ ,” he croaked, his voice deepened. 

Her heart thrummed inside of her chest. He raised his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath caught in her throat. Then he seized her by the neck. 

“F-...” His fingers tightened. At first she was too surprised to understand what was happening. Then the _fear_ settled prickly over her shoulders. Father breathed through his nose in sharp, sucking breaths, as though he were running a great distance. He leaned in over the bed, towards her, and in his abyssal eyes she thought she saw a vein of red.

Slowly, slowly he leaned in, until his lips brushed hers. 

Her neck _strained_ with the effort of keeping still. She didn’t dare blink. She could smell his hair product, the wine on his breath, and the scent off his body. Like a man burnt, he stood abruptly and was silhouetted in the doorway, before the door slammed shut behind him. The light extinguished.

Rey wasn’t sure whether she was alive or existent, until the ringing in her ears subsided, and gave way to a frantic chirping. A little blunt head nudged her elbow, and she turned to see two coal-bright eyes. Rey wiped her wet face, before wrapping Baby in a hug. She burrowed themselves deep in the blankets and smushed Baby between her body and the teddy. But try as she might, she could not stop trembling all over, from the tips of her worrying fingers to the ends of her curled toes. How strange; how _very strange_ that all was, but had anything different really happened?

Father always gave her a kiss goodnight.


	2. Hug Me At The Scary Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters bc Im running on Japanese Horror RPG mechanics to write this, if that makes sense

You’re okay, _he sighed_. _A bright, blinding disc of light shone above his head. Everything felt fuzzy; she could not be sure if she was alive anymore. Tired._ Don’t go to sleep, _he urged. Her world tilted off its axis, as if she were falling._

Don't go to sleep. Not yet, _he said_. I’ll take good care of you, little one.

.

Rey did not have very many nightmares anymore, because now she was older and she had Baby and her so many friends. But this one dream had felt different than all the others, than the very silly dreams or the colorless quiet ones or the sweaty scary ones that she just could not remember. So at breakfast, Rey told Father about the dream.

Father always liked to hear about her dreams. She hoped this one would make him feel better again; he had drifted away from her since that one scary goodnight kiss. They sat across each other at the dining table, now cleared of the tablecloth and the white candles. When she first began her dream, he stopped picking at his oatmeal with his spoon. Then he raised his eyes.

Rey knew her Father’s face very well. She saw him every day, and thought of him even when her eyes were closed. But she could not imagine what he could be feeling right now. His eyes were so dark that she could shade them in with a pencil. 

His pink lips fell open. “Do you remember?” he asked. Light flickered in his eyes. Slowly his mouth pulled into a rare smile.

 _Remember what?_ Rey wondered. _Was my nightmare real?_ She remembered feeling so _sick_ , and _helpless_. The _giant_ carrying her — he spoke so gently to her, but she was afraid. She was so scared of him and what he would _do_ to her. When she woke up, she thought she was going to throw up, but she couldn’t move a muscle. She was afraid the _giant_ was in her room, that he had already _done_ something to her —

But Father was so plainly astonished, that Rey could not help but smile, too. “Do you remember anything else?” he asked. He pushed aside his oatmeal and leaned across the table. When Rey shook her head, lines creased the corners of his eyes. “That’s okay,” he said. “You were so _small_ , then. I worried about you every day.”

That only confused her more. Rey had a terrible memory; Father said it was because she used to be so _sick_ when she was little. But she was happy that she had made Father happy. Maybe if she remembered more, she could share _more_ memories with him — even these _sick_ and _scary_ memories. 

.

To begin remembering better, Rey took the calendar off the wall. It was a _nice_ calendar, with pictures of _cute puppies_ and _Porgs_. Rey always liked to hold Baby in her arms when she crossed out a day, so that Baby could say _good morning_ to the other Porg. This month, the puppy and the Porg were on the beach, and they were both wearing sunglasses! Very cute!

Rey placed Baby and the calendar on the floor and sat down. Father had marked the week that he would take her to the beach. Then she flipped to previous months, and future months. Father was so smart that he only marked things for Rey’s benefit. There were x’s to indicate his _dates_ and times when Grandmother visits, when Rey was supposed to stay upstairs. Then there was her birthday next month, indicated by a sticker of a cake! But to her dismay, she could not find the one date she was searching for: Father’s birthday.

Rey didn’t even know that Father could have a birthday, if it had not been for Grandmother. She only remembered how _upset_ Father had been, when Grandmother came unannounced to yell about something. (Of course Rey could not remember just exactly what it was they were fighting about...) If Father had a mother, then he was _born_ , _too_ , she realized. But Father _refused_ to tell her his birthday. He smiled and said only _children_ can celebrate their birthdays, not _grown-ups_.

Rey flipped to this month. She looked down and noted the date for Grandmother’s next visit: a long _Sunday brunch_. Good! She could ask Father if she could cook something for Grandmother, and then wait for an opportunity to ask her question. "What month do you think Father is born in, Baby?" she asked. She read in a book that babies born in the late fall or winter months were prone to depression, and sometimes Father did seem very _remote, just_ like the _moon_. Could he be a Libra? Father liked to have things in certain orders, and he always picked out her outfits and combed her hair. Libras are smart, too!

Something thudded. 

She raised her head. Baby too looked up, from her important business of hopping on the puppy. They waited for a second longer. Then the thudding came again. Baby squeaked and head butted Rey’s thigh. 

“Oh it’s okay,” Rey cooed, before gingerly scooping up the Porg in her hands. She picked up the calendar and with a trembling hand, placed it on the wall. The Porg trembled against her chest, a little fluffy ball of pure terror.

Father was away at work, but he said that if she were in _danger_ , she was to lock herself in her room and wait until he came home. Tentatively Rey followed the source of the sound and came to the door of the basement.

Rey was _scared_ of the basement. It was dark down there, and there were the _spiders_. But most of all, the most _frightening_ thing of all, was that it was the entrance to the _Workshop_. Above all, Rey was not to go down into the _Workshop_. Father said there were dangerous _tools_ down there that could seriously injure her, and the same went with his half-finished _projects_. 

Her legs trembled, but when she looked down and saw poor Baby curled to her chest, Rey _really_ thought about who she was. Was she a _scaredy-cat_? Were _scaredy-cats_ fit to be _Mommies_? “Don’t be afraid,” she said to Baby, stroking the top of her feathery head. “There’s nothing down there. I’m sure it’s just the washing machine.” To demonstrate, she clutched the handle to the basement and turned it open. A cool breeze wafted from the landing below. Dark. 

The wooden steps creaked beneath her weight. The light from upstairs was good enough to look around the darkened basement; she didn’t expect to actually go all the way down. Father said he used a _trick door_ to his _true_ Workshop. First of all, the door was hidden behind a moving shelving case. Second of all, asides from himself, nobody could get in, or _out —_ not even his _smartest_ toys. To prove it, a long time ago he had her play with a copy of the locking mechanism. He said there would be a great big prize at the end if she could _break it_ — but Rey could _not_... So he gave her a big hug and said that now he _knew_ he had a _good girl_. But _Kira_ also failed to break the lock, and...

“I don’t see any big spiders down here,” laughed Rey. Then she turned her head, and in the light from upstairs, she could see -. The shelf had been moved.

The secret door was now a black rectangle, cut into the wall.

Baby shifted in her wooden arms. Without moving her head, Rey’s eyes flickered over the darkened basement. She raised her left leg and took a step back, up on the previous step. Then her right leg, which knocked against the same step. She needed to be _very_ careful. If she tripped and fell, Baby would be a _Porg pancake_ , and Rey would be _broken_.

Something breathed. It was a sharp, _wet_ sound.

Rey spun on her heels and bolted up the steps two at a time. She ran into the light before kicking the door shut behind her. Poor Baby fidgeted and slapped her flippers against Rey’s chest, chirping frantically. The door to the basement lead to a long and empty corridor, with doors to the bathroom and to a storage closet. Rey needed to protect Baby, protect them _both, but how? There was nothing to block the door, nothing heavy enough to keep him out._ Panicked tears came to her eyes. 

She ran upstairs and ran to her room, before throwing the door shut.

_It'll be okay, I_ t'll be okay, little one," she crooned to poor terrified Baby, as she crawled beneath the bed.


	3. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Trains, and, sewing machines~_

“Rey? Sweetheart?” The door swung open. “Are you hiding? It’s safe to come out.” His big, dark shoes stalked in front of her. “I wonder...” he murmured, “where you could _be_...”

At the sound of his voice, Rey felt _soft_ all over, and she sagged against the floor. She knew she was _safe_. But poor Baby, who had been bored and wiggly after being squished for so long, froze solid. The Porg felt like a rock lodged against her ribs. _Weird_. But it gave Rey a fun idea, so she stayed quiet, too.

Father’s heavy shoes stalked around the bed.

Then he dropped to his knees, and his dark eyes peered _back_ at her. 

“ _Found you_ ,” he sang.

“Hihi,” said Rey. _Oof!_ That was _fast_. And now she felt a little embarrassed now.

“Hello, Rey.” 

Rey slid out from under the bed, clutching poor Baby to her side. As she sat on the floor, cradling the trembling Porg, Father stood upright and straightened himself, so he towered over her. She had a sense of vertigo, some queasy feeling, so she hugged Baby to herself. “How did you know where I was?” she asked.

“I always know where you are,” he replied. “It’s my job to take care of you.” A pause, then, “Is she alright?”

He meant Baby. Rey nodded. “She’s still a little scared, I think... Was the thing in the basement...”

“It’s gone now. I took care of it,” he said. He took a step closer, so the tip of his shiny black shoe was only an inch away from her knee. “Let’s change your clothes for now. We should get you both into a bath after dinner tonight. Spiders don’t just live in the basement.”

Hurriedly, Rey swiped her hands over Baby and her hair and her bare skin, trying to dislodge dust bunnies and any stray cobwebs. She was okay, because Father’s mouse droids kept the floor clean. But then she noticed a warm, wet spot down her flower dress and the front of her leg, where Baby had sat. Poor Baby...

Rey got to her feet and placed Baby in the crib. In the meantime, Father had gone to the dresser drawer and picked out a yellow summer dress with sequin butterflies on the side. He held it out before him, eyes scrolling down to see if it was adequate. Then he turned to Rey, and he set the dress down on the bed. Rey stood stock still, her tongue fuzzy in her mouth. She waited for Father to say something, but instead he straightened and looked at her.

“Baby had an accident,” she confessed softly. She bit her lower lip, heat flooding her face. She lowered her head and raised her stained leg.

Father tilted his head, then went to the closet, before pulling out a plastic container of scented wipes. He plucked one out and closed the box. Then he cornered Rey against the edge of the bed. “Take off your dress,” he said. Then, “Did you have an accident, little one?”

Rey shook her head, feeling more warm and weird because of the question. Her throat felt dry and itchy when she swallowed. She was probably dehydrated. Nervous, Rey grabbed the hem of her flower dress and pulled it upwards, over her head. Father helped get her free, then he tossed it in the hamper. Now she stood in only her bra and her socks and her Saturday panties. 

Father knelt down and he pressed the cool, lavender wipe against her thigh. Her skin pebbled beneath it; she breathed through her nose.

“If you want,” he said, “we can walk in the park together. Would you like that?”

Rey nodded, swallowing as his hand slid between her thighs, making slow, vertical strokes. He needed to get her all cleaned.

“I don’t have to return to work today,” he said. “So we can spend the rest of Saturday together, and Sunday too, once brunch is over. Would you like that?”

 _Yes_ , she mouthed, her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. The nodes of her spine tightened, as his fingers just _grazed_ her mound. 

“No accident today,” he said, before crumpling the wipe in his hand. He stood up, and leant until his mouth was to her ear. “ _My brave girl_ ,” he murmured, before kissing the place where her collarbone met her shoulder.

Rey felt hot, and dizzy. She sure could have used a glass of water. But as he turned away, she remembered - “Father?”

“What is it?” He slipped the wipe into his back pocket. 

“Could I - could I go to the brunch, tomorrow?” she asked. Father’s brow furrowed, so she added, “I could cook omelettes.”

“Rey,” he said, “your _Grandmother_ is...” His lip curled, and his brow lowered - he was stuck on a word. 

“Please?” asked Rey. She forgot for a moment that she wore only her bra and panties and socks and she walked over to him, her hands pressed together. “ _Pretty please-_?” 

Father’s eyes darkened, and he turned a shade of pink up to the tips of his ears. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat. “Alright,” he said, after a moment.

Yes! “Thank you, Father!” Rey cried. She was excited, and a little scared, to meet Grandmother! Hopefully she would learn Father’s birthday, and she would have more good things to remember.


	4. Sunday Brunch x Father and Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do double-update for Badlands and this bc I wasn't here Monday ;w;  
> BTW this is based on the JRPG Mad Father, politecookie caught that!   
> I also like The Witch's House and Ib, and I watched a playthrough of Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea - scary/cute or cute/scary stuff :3
> 
> minor TW: brunch, animal distress (I'll put this one in the tags!)

Usually, omelette-making was not a nerve-wracking experience, but everything needed to be just _perfect_ for Grandmother. Father had sautéed the onions and mushrooms first. Then he prepared the very pretty fruit beverages, which left the actual cooking of Grandmother’s omelette to Rey. Rey felt nervous, but after, she did feel that she had made the greatest, most perfect, beautiful - GOLDEN - omelette, that she had ever made. There were chives in there, and a creamy layer of the smelly goat cheese that Rey personally didn’t care for, along with spinach and mushrooms and onions. This she slid onto a clean plate, and walked proudly to the dining table.

Grandmother was shorter than Rey, which meant that she was _tiny_ compared to Father. They sat across from each other, not speaking. Grandmother’s salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly combed to the back of her head, in a round bun. She looked very prim and neat, in her apricot-colored coat. 

“Here you go,” Rey said, setting the plate in front of her.

Grandmother glanced down at the plate, and her red lips pressed into a thin line. She looked to Father, who was staring hard at Grandmother.

“Okay,” Rey said, before walking back to the kitchen.

Behind her, Father murmured, _Aren’t you even going to look at her?_

It was time to make Father’s omelette!

_“You know_ ,” he said, “ _she really wanted to do this for you_. _She’s really lonely.”_ Father liked SPAM in his omelettes... “ _She just wants you to acknowledge her, and you can’t even be_ bothered _to say her name.”_

_“Oh my god-.”_

_“Is it because she won’t add to your retirement portfolio?”_ he asked. A chair grated against the floor.

Rey startled towards the stove and grabbed the handle of the sauté pan to look busy, but nobody entered the kitchen. Was _this_ her chance? She peered out into the dining room, and saw Grandmother sitting alone. Her back was turned to the kitchen, so Rey quickly and tentatively pranced up to her, with her sneaky-sock maneuvers. 

“Hello?” she said.

Grandmother spun around in her seat, showing the terrified whites of her eyes. “Oh _f-_ ,” she gasped. A wrinkled hand braced against the back of her chair, and the other clutched at her chest. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Rey said. 

Grandmother’s lip curled and she shook her head. “I can’t help you,” she deadpanned.

Rey felt a touch confused. She took a step towards Grandmother, but then the woman grabbed her purse from off the carpet and began rummaging inside it. “Don’t come any closer,” she snapped, before pulling out a small black bottle. “My son says you feel _pain_.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you,” Rey said, raising her hands to show she held no weapons. This was really scary... “I just wanted to know when Father’s birthday was!”

“ _He_ put you up to this?” she said, brow raising. “ _Benjamin_!” she cried. Rey flinched at the sound. “ _Benjamin_ , get over here!”

Terrified, Rey ran back into the kitchen. She backed herself against a wall and she felt a tightness in her chest. Her legs felt like gelatin. Why did Grandmother-.

“Rey?” Father ran into the kitchen and then walked towards her. He cupped her face in his big, warm hands. His brow furrowed. “Why did you - what were you trying to _do_?” he asked softly. His breath smelled fruity and bitter.

_— Am I in trouble?_ Rey wondered. Maybe she was for making Grandmother so upset... “I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

“Go upstairs,” he said. His hands slipped off her face and clenched into fists at his side. Rey felt a bolt of fear that rooted her to the spot. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “ _Go upstairs_ ,” he repeated; he wouldn’t tell her again. Tears in her eyes, Rey circled around Father. Without looking at Grandmother, she left the kitchen and climbed up the stairwell.

Heavy footsteps sounded from below; Rey turned - _afraid_ that Father was following her. Instead, dishes and cutlery clinked from down below; Father had just sat down at the dining table again. Rey’s shoulders sagged.

.

Tentatively, someone knocked on her door. Rey heard it creak open behind her; Baby froze, and turned her wide eyes to the door. Rey knew that _he_ was watching her; well if he wanted her attention, he would need to speak up. “ _Baby_ ,” she cooed. 

After a fish paste breakfast, Rey would normally walk the Porg in the yard outside. But Rey did not feel brave enough to return downstairs with Grandmother there. Instead, she stuffed some little Porg treats into one of Baby’s puzzle toys, so she could chase it and roll it around. Rey had felt just a _little_ better, watching Baby head-butt the toy and gobble up the treats as soon as they fell out.

But now Rey shook the toy in front of Baby’s face. The fish treats rattled around inside, but Baby was too busy watching the doorway where Father stood. The back of Rey’s neck prickled. She raised a hand and brushed down the stray hairs that escaped her buns. 

“What is it,” Rey muttered, without turning around. Rey twisted the knobs on the toy that released the Porg treats and their debris onto the carpet. Of course Father would not like that, but she did not care. Since Baby was preoccupied, Rey picked up each piece she could fit between her thumb and pointer. At last, she looked over her shoulder. Through the crack in the doorway, Rey could only see a vertical _slice_ of Father: his dark eye, a shadow for a nose, a red segment of his lips. She lowered her eyes, unnerved. “Is Grandmother okay?” she asked.

The door swung open, revealing the rest of him. He strode inside, sliding his hands into his pockets. As Rey arched her neck to look at him, her hands reached out and grabbed Baby. The Porg treats grew damp in her suddenly cold fists. Father looked down at her.

“It’s a nice day outside,” he said. “Should we go on a picnic?”

Rey shrugged her shoulders. 

“No?” he said. Then, “You didn’t get to eat _anything_ this entire morning. How about we go out to a restaurant. I can get a sitter to look after the Baby.” His voice crackled on the last word. Rey heard the click of his throat as he swallowed.

“Rey,” he said, “when I speak to you, you _need_ to respond.” Rey gathered her legs beneath herself and stood up on pins and needles. She tucked Baby back into her crib and threw the spoiled Porg treats into the trash bin. 

She opened and closed her mouth. In a tight voice she asked, “Does Grandmother _hate_ me?”

“No.” Surprised, Rey turned to Father, who took a step towards her. “Grandmother loves you, in her _own_ way,” he said, without warmth. 

“Then why did - _why_ did she try to _pepper spray_ me?” Rey asked. What kind of love was _that_?

Father’s hands covered her shoulders. “You shouldn’t have talked to her by yourself,” said Father. “Your Grandmother is _suspicious_. She has lived a _difficult_ life.”

“But she said she ‘couldn’t help me’,” Rey murmured. “What did she mean?”

His fingers dug into the back of her collarbone. Rey grit her teeth. “She could never help _anyone_ ,” Father snapped, “except _herself_.” With force he ordered, “ _Never_ talk to her without my permission again.” Spittle landed on her cheek.

“Yes, Father,” Rey said, terrified. When he hurt her, it was best to be quiet and wait for it to pass over. In his worst moods, Father would not hear her.

But this was not his ‘worst’ mood. His hands slid up her neck, to grab her jaw. This was not the gentle way he would cup her face and stare at her, when he desired to look at her. He tilted her face so he could look into her eyes. “Why did you wait until I left?” he asked. “ _What did you ask my mother?_ ”

Rey felt doubly scared. His dark eyes narrowed; sometimes it felt like he could read every single thought in her head, but Rey couldn’t do the same. Her mind blanked, scrubbed _clean._

What had she asked his mother? What had she asked... Why did she want to go to brunch... his fingers squeezed around her jaw; she heard a whimper and realized it came from her throat. 

“I...” began Rey. Father’s eyes reflected a girl in pain. “I wanted, to know...” More — Rey wanted to know more, to remember more things, so that Father would be happy. She wanted to know, “your birthday.”

When Father released her, Rey felt cold and trembly all over. A strange, shrill sound entered her consciousness: she looked down, and saw a little fluffy ball smacking against Father’s ankles. Horror gripped Rey — Baby was attacking Father! Before she could figure out what to do, Father reached down. His large hands _snatched_ up Baby. 

The screeching increased tenfold — Rey had _never_ heard a Porg make that sound before. It pierced the air like a knife; it made her head ring, it made her scared and sad that her poor little friend could make such a _terrible_ sound. She grasped at her ears, paralyzed, as Father raised poor little Baby to eye level.

Father’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth fallen open in a toothy _smile_. It was a scary expression. If he could unhinge his jaw, he could bite down on a little Porg. His lips moved, but Rey couldn’t hear his words. Then he walked towards the crib, and set Baby down inside. The screaming cut short, as Baby burrowed underneath the safety of the blankets.

When she released her ears, the sound of ringing was louder than anything else. Father braced his hands on the railing of the crib, and he leaned over, his hair obscuring his face. Rey only caught his gentle, nasal voice. Then he reached down, and with his fingertips, he just _grazed_ the lump in the blankets where Baby hid, before pushing himself from off the railing.

Rey backed into the wall to avoid him, trembling. Father stopped in front of her. 

“Did I scare you, Rey?” he asked softly.

Rey flinched, as his fingers raised towards her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tapping her nose. “Rey, I’m sorry... Can I hug you now?” His hand dropped to his side, and his arms swiveled to reveal his empty palms. “Can Daddy hug you?”

He spread his arms and _fell_ over her like a blanket. His arms wrapped tight around her back. To Rey, this meant: he was done being _angry_. Rey let her arms snake around his torso; he squeezed her so tight to his body that it hurt. (The pain meant that he was really, _really_ sorry.) He rubbed his face in the crook of her neck, which muffled his voice.

“Daddy loves Rey a whole _lot_ ,” he said softly. “You’re my _special girl_. A _whole_ lot. I really, _really_ do.” 

Her fingers curled over his hard back. “I love you too, Father,” she replied, because it was true. 


	5. Playing Dress-up x The Red Gem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss goin shopping ;-;

Whenever Father took her outdoors for long dates, Baby would be left in the care of Mr. Mitaka. Of the sitters that Father had hired before, Mr. Mitaka was the _only_ person that Rey trusted with Baby. For instance, he didn’t roll his eyes when Rey gave him the laminated instructions for what to do when a Porg is choking. Rey sensed that Mr. Mitaka was just a kind, attentive man.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little worried. On car rides, Father would laugh, and he would gently rub her knee with his free hand. _A good Mommy always worries_ , he would say.

Today he was quiet as he drove into the city. Through the window, Rey looked up at all those tall glass towers and felt a touch of vertigo. Then she let her eyes return to the street, and the road in front of them. There were men and women of all shapes and sizes, in all manner of dress, walking briskly or sitting at outdoor tables, talking to each other or looking at their phones. 

“Father!” she gasped. She tapped her window, and then flattened herself against her seat. Her hope was that Father could look to his right, through her car door window. But then the light ahead turned green, and the car slid forward. Rey pouted, disappointed.

“What did you see?” Father asked.

“It was a Dalmatian!"

“How many?” he asked. His eyes were trained on the back of the car ahead, but his lips curled in a smile. 

“Just the one! I think it was _Pongo_ ,” she said: the father of one-hundred-and-one Dalmatians. Father _loved_ dogs, but Rey was worried that Baby and a dog wouldn’t be able to live together. She was hoping that Father would find a special, trained puppy or doggy, one that wouldn’t bully a little Porg.

Father drove into a square tunnel, which lead into an underground garage. They got out and took an elevator to return to street-level. 

Between the skyscrapers was a slice of pretty blue sky. Looking around, Rey knew that if she were to walk this city alone, she would be lost forever. But Father held her hand, and he steered them briskly towards the place he wanted to go.

He lead her to a great big store that took up the two bottom floors of a building. It was so big inside; there were manikins in elegant poses, colorful shirts and dresses, rows of jeans, and a makeup section, but Father pulled her along to the back of the store.

The words Summer Sale scrawled over every billboard sign; all around were racks of swimsuits. At last, Father released her hand. She looked up at him, and met his dark eyes. “Stay close to me,” he said. Rey nodded.

This was harder than she thought it would be. Rey ogled two pretty manikins, and then saw a blue bikini with red cherries printed on it. She wanted Father to see it, too, but he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from it. There were other customers, too: a woman and her daughter, but they kept casting glances at Rey and Father. 

When they went inside the changing rooms, Father hung up his selection on the hooks. Rey’s lips pressed into a thin line: all four of his choices were black or grey, and they were one-pieces.

“I need to figure out what size you are,” he explained, which made sense to Rey. “Lift your arms.”

Rey reached for the ceiling. “Father,” she said, her voice muffled by the closed-in walls. He pulled the hem of her sundress over her head and hung it on the back of the door, and then he did the same to her bra. 

“Did you see the bikini?” It was blue, with red cherries on it. 

Father shook his head, before choosing a grey swimsuit to put on her. She stepped into the holes, and then he zipped it up behind her. “Ow!” she whimpered; the zipper caught on the end of her ponytail. The fit was _loose_ , like wearing a sack of potatoes. When he zipped it down, it made a throaty farting sound that made Rey giggle. Father’s mouth crumpled disapprovingly, and he told her to put her clothes back on. _Smaller size, and no zippers_ , Rey noted.

The second time, Rey picked up the bikini and brought it over for him to see. Father looked at it and snarled, _Put it back_.

“But you didn’t look at it,” she said.

“ _Put it back where you found it. You can’t walk next to me in that,_ ” he snapped.

Hurt, Rey turned her back and returned the bikini to its place. Father chose a black one-piece with straps that criss-crossed behind her back, a grey one with a _keyhole_ in the back, and a dark blue one with broad straps around the shoulders. Once again she raised her arms, and Father tugged up her dress and her bra. The one with the straps was kind of tough to slip on, and the fabric _chafed_ against her nipples. Father kept plucking the strings in the back, and he reached between her thighs to tug and center the swimsuit... The gray one fit ok, but her nipples still hurt, and her ponytail stuck to the back of her damp neck. It was getting very _hot_. The navy blue one felt even _hotter_ , because of the padding on the shoulders and over her chest.

“Leave your bra off,” Father ordered, as he gathered up the swimsuits and their things. Rey swallowed; she slipped on her dress and flip-flops, then crossed her arms over her chest, self-conscious.

Father kept only the gray one-piece, but this time he began to pick out two-piece swimsuits. Now a lady salesclerk was watching them, which made Rey hug herself even tighter. Father saw the woman, too; his eyes rolled in their sockets, and he grabbed Rey’s arm particularly hard.

“Father,” she whispered, dragged inside the changing booth. The sudden heat as he closed the door made her lightheaded; she blinked twice. “I can try on the swimsuits by myself,” she suggested.

He shook his head. “You know I can’t leave you alone,” he admonished her gently. “I need to be here in case anything _happens_ , little one.”

“Could we _please_ —.” Her voice muffled as he pulled the dress over her head. As her breasts fell free, she heard a sucked-in breath. She blinked the stars from her eyes. “Could we please take a break, for lunch?” she asked, folding her arms over her bare chest. Her skin was bumpy and itchy to the touch. Her stomach felt pinched and empty, and Father had promised to take her to a nice restaurant.

“We’re almost finished,” he promised, again. 

These two-piece bikinis were tied with string in the front or back. His hands tickled her armpits and her sides and her waist, making her flinch. She was ready for this to be over. But Father tied each knot into a perfect bow, and re-centered the triangle cloths over her breasts or between her thighs, and spun her around. Then he shook his head, because the fit or the design or the color did not agree with him.

This time when they left the changing rooms, the lady salesclerk approached, and she said, “Excuse me, is everything alright?” 

“Yes,” said Father, clutching Rey’s arm tightly. “I’m buying a _swimsuit_ for my _daughter_.”

“Well,” the salesclerk said. “That’s _fine_ , but unfortunately, father’s aren’t allowed in the women’s changing rooms themselves. You’re welcome to wait in our lounge outside.”

“Oh, is that _store policy_?” Father asked, his voice tight. “I’m sorry, but my _daughter_ has a _medical condition_ that could _incapacitate_ her at any moment. _Thank you_ for your _concern_ ,” he added, icily. 

The salesclerk’s eyes flickered to Rey’s, and Rey looked down, her insides twisting. Other customers now watched them, even once the salesclerk apologized and left.

_Idiots_ , Father muttered. He was red to the tips of his ears.

“Father,” she whispered, “maybe we can come back _later_.” 

“ _I’m not coming back here for a second trip_ ,” he snapped.

To Rey’s irritation, he chose a top with metal bands that would sit below her sternum and around her waist. “ _I don’t want that one_ ,” she said. “ _I don’t like any of the ones you chose_.”

“ _Fantastic_ ,” he cried, throwing his head backwards. Ignoring her protests, he dragged her back into the changing rooms and threw the door shut behind them. 

The plastic hangers rattled as he jammed the swimsuits on the hooks and turned to face her. Then he grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it roughly over her head, the fabric rasping sharply against her breasts. Rey struggled to slot her arms through the sleeves. When she freed herself, there were angry tears in her eyes.

He chose the bikini with the metal rings, only this time he ordered _Take_ that _off,_ and he smacked her waist sharply. Rey fumbled backwards against the wall of the changing room, before wordlessly lifting up one leg to thread her panties off. Her knees knocked together; nervously, she placed one hand between her legs, and the other she crossed over her bare chest. She only wore sandals.

Rey waited for Father to dress her, and waited. His head tilted, like a strangely poised manikin. The red hot irritation inside of him was gone, and replaced by something else. Her skin _crawled_ beneath his eyes. His lips opened, but Rey couldn’t hear his words. “What?” she asked. 

“Your chest,” he said. He looked down at his hands, at the metal and cloth contraption dangling from the wire hanger. Then, he placed the swimsuit on the hook on the door. His eyes flickered down and then to her eyes. “Let Daddy look at it. Does it still _hurt_ , little one?” he asked, his voice soft and lilting.

Rey swallowed, her throat tightening. The dressing room partition had melded to her naked back. Static electricity stuck strands of her hair to her face, her back, and the wall behind her. Father grasped her wrists, and despite the _straining_ in her limbs, he raised her arms and pressed them to the wall beside her head, as though she were a specimen pinned to a dissection board. She was exposed to him; she could feel her hard nipples and the nakedness of her body. There was only an inch of space between his body and hers.

Her eyes stung, but no tears came. She let her eyes roll to the checkerboard ceiling, past Father’s face.

“It’s red,” he murmured. Her breath stuttered as she felt the roughness of his thumb and forefinger around her left nipple. Slowly he rolled the hardened bud between his fingers. Then he spit into his fingers and _touched_ her again, massaging her breast until her flesh was hot and wet and sticky with his spending. As he wet and tended her other breast, he leaned in _close_ to kiss her cheek, then her neck. 

Her breathing sharpened into short, hungry breaths. He made a gentle sound in his throat, before wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her up. Only the tips of her toes brushed her flip-flops. A whimper escaped her throat and he shushed her in her ear. To balance herself, she grabbed his broad shoulders. The hard muscles shifted beneath his shirt, beneath her gripping wet hands. 

“ _Look at how pretty you are,_ ” he sighed. He rested his forehead against hers; Rey could see the sweep of each eyelash over his dark eyes. “ _Daddy can’t wait to take you on the beach_ ,” he said. “ _Won’t you like that, little one?_ ”

Rey nodded, confused and lightheaded. She was _scared,_ but she wanted to please Daddy and go to the beach with him. She wanted to do everything with him.

Rapid footsteps clattered on the floor outside. A little toddler _squealed_ , making her flinch. The sound piercedthe confines of Rey’s fogged brain. Beneath the door, she spied a small pair of sneakers running along. The child stumbled to the floor and then picked itself up, the only saving grace being that it wasn’t curious enough to look inside the booth.

A woman called after the baby, and then her shoes clicked after the little sneakers. Father pressed his body flat against Rey’s, but the damage was done. With horror, Rey pressed her face against his shoulder, her body burning hot with shame. Once the woman and the baby left, they waited for a time, before Father let her down. 

Rey grabbed her bra and her panties, and then her sundress, and she placed these on as quickly as possible. Even as she left the dressing room, she still felt naked, so she hugged her chest tightly. She walked to the front of the store where they entered, and _waited._ She ignored the eyes of the customers walking past on their way out/

When Father appeared carrying two bags, she said, “I want to go _home_.”

Father looked at her, and then he walked out of the doors. 

.

It was hot outside, but the heat irritated her skin. Rey followed at Father’s heels, her arms still crossed over her chest. There were fancy restaurants, some with outdoor seating or grills and long menus outside. But when Father stopped in front of these, she shook her head. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

The walk to the parking lot was made longer than she remembered, because Father decided to look at these restaurants and ice cream parlors and bakeries and art galleries, and then they walked past a pretty fountain where little children ran around and splashed inside of it. But Rey kept her face disinterested, because at each moment, he looked at her face.

He stopped in front of a small storefront, surprising Rey. Father took the handle of the door and held it open for her. Rey had enough time just to glance at the storefront, before stepping inside. _A jewelry store?_ she thought. Then her jaw dropped.

In the middle of the vaulted ceiling, there hung a chandelier that glistened with crystals. A slight movement of her head, or even cars driving by the window, made the chandelier glisten.

Suddenly, she was aware that she was being watched. She schooled her expression, but not before catching Father’s smiling face. The floors were carpeted thickly with a dark red, so the displays glowed. Only now did Rey notice a man in a suit, leaning against one of the display counters. He had half-lidded, tired eyes, and his upper lip sported a thin mustache. Upon meeting Rey’s eyes, he gave a lax half-smile.

Father quietly exchanged words with him. Then they went to one counter, and he beckoned her over. The jeweler bent down before the counter and retrieved a box with a felt row of rings.

“Rey,” said Father, “pick the one you like.”

Rey looked at the box. There were twelve in total, in different colors. 

Father rested his elbow on the counter beside her. “Each of these is a birthstone, to represent each month,” he said. “If you want the stone, but don’t like the ring, I’m sure DJ can find a different one that you like and fit it.” He pointed to the one that was Rey’s ‘birthstone’, and then he tapped a second one.

Rey looked at each ring. 

DJ dipped his head from side to side, and then asked brusquely, “Does the lady want to try them on?”

“That would be _helpful_ , _yes_ ,” Father agreed.

So DJ took the roll from out of the long case, and removed each ring one by one. Rey picked one up, and then the other because it seemed the polite thing to do, but already she had forgotten which ones that Father had touched. She did not really want a ring. Was this strange? She glanced at DJ, and he looked at her sleepily, without a touch of concern. This was not like the clothing store; maybe DJ saw this all the time. Maybe Fathers purchased rings for their daughters all the time.

At last, she set the ring that she was holding down on the top of the display case. She stepped back and said, bashfully, “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” She wiped her shaking hands on her dress.

“What _would_ you like, Rey?” Father asked. Then he turned to DJ and said, ”Do you have _tiaras_? My little one _loves_ playing _princess_. _She_ -.”

“ _N-no_!” cried Rey, gripping her dress. Heat flooded her face, and she looked to the two men who were grinning back at her; Father bemused, DJ _lascivious_. “ _I don’t want anything anymore_ ,” she choked out.

Father looked at her, and slowly his smile fell from his face. 

Rey bit her lower lip. She just wanted to go home already. She looked at all the rings lying on the glass case, and she picked the _red_ one. Wordlessly, she slid it onto her fourth finger. That seemed to be the place where rings go: on the _ring_ finger.

Father took her hand in his, so that he and the jeweler could admire it. _Beautiful_ , said Father, his features softening.

_Thank you_ , murmured Rey, turning the ring around so it caught the light. Maybe this was what men did: they buy rings to marry women _and_ apologize to their daughters. Father wished to look around some more, so he allowed Rey to wait outside, which she did. 

It was good and bright outside, which didn’t at all match with what Rey felt inside. She hugged herself to try to make herself feel better, ignoring the stares from people crossing the street. _Why did Father have to shame her like this?_

Sometimes, she wished she could be free to walk around a big city, in whatever clothes she chose. Sometimes, she wished she could be free to _disappear_. A warm breeze swept past her legs, and she shivered at the dark thought. The ring was heavy on her finger; when she moved her hand or crossed her arms, she was made aware of its heft and of the edges of the ruby. She looked at it now, and wondered what she was too do with such a thing. Poor Baby would probably try to eat it, because it was so pretty. Like a droplet of blood. 


End file.
